Little Old Lady From Stalag 13
by Me
Summary: LeBeau impersonates a 180-year-old lady for the Germans to use as propaganda in order to get photos of a new generator


Little Old Lady From Stalag 13 

Robert Hogan, senior POW at Stalag 13, hummed as he studied a message which had been radioed from the Underground to the prisoners' hideaway. An intricate network of tunnels existed under the prisoner of war camp in the heart of Germany. "What's it say, Colonel," inquired Frenchman Louis LeBeau, standing on the left of Hogan and chief radio and electronics man James Kinchloe. 

"The Germans are testing a new and improved electrical generator, which lasts twice as long." he spoke as he read. "According to this, a prototype is in Hammelburg." Hammelburg was the nearest large city to the LuftStalag. "The Allies would like the blueprints, and something explaining how it works." LeBeau glanced curiously at the memo. 

Kinch shrugged. "Not the biggest mission, but hey, they're all important." 

The Frenchman nodded. "Oui, that is what I was thinking. Not exactly top priority." 

Hogan laid the paper on the table. "Well, it could help a lot when our bombers hit their electrical supplies; if the Allies bomb one substation it'll be a lot easier for them to switch to another and not lose any power. Plus, we could use it right here in the tunnel." He grinned. 

"Hey, the Colonel always thinks of some way to use things to his advantage," noted the black radio man. "How do you plan to go about it?" 

Hogan glanced at LeBeau. Doing anything this afternoon?" 

"I guess not; will I have time to flirt with the ladies," the Frenchman wondered. 

Kinch grinned. "Let him to that, he won't be back till the war is over." 

"If then," came the colonel's aside. To LeBeau, he instructed: "Get on your old lady outfit, maybe you can sneak a few pictures wakling slowly around it before they shoo you away." He looked at Kinch. "Even the Krauts wouldn't treat an old lady mean." 

"Well, one thing's for sure, I sure have that slow walk down pat." He inquired "how do they get around in those high heels and long Victorian dresses?" 

As LeBeau donned his outfit, and placed a gooey substance on himself that Sergeant Andrew Carter had developed which looked and felt much like old skin, Hogan and Kinch wandered up the stairwell built into the bunk. They emerged in their barracks. The obese sergeant of the guard, Hans Schultz, soon entered unannounced. The Heroes wree comfortable letting Schultz see little things; he ignored them well. LeBeau's absence, while a little bigger than some things, was not all that unusual to the man. Still, he inquired where LeBeau was. 

"He's putting on makeup," claimed the colonel with a grin. 

Schultz laughed, as expected. "You are a jolly joker. I wanted to know if he could give me his recipe for strudel." 

"Some other time, Schultz," came another American, Richard Baker. "He's not feeling well." Newkirk, having learned of the operation, couldn't help but chide his friend. "Yeah, e says e feels like a little old lady." 

"Oh, that is too bad." He smirked, speaking rapidly. "Maybe a joke would cheer him up. My son, Oskar - he's the best cook right now, I want the recipe for him - he told his little brother Heinrich that dinner would be ready in 30 minutes if he helped and 20 if he did not." 

Hogan shook his head and feigned an upset look. "Schultz, you call yourself a comedian; your delivery was all wrong!" The Heroes would shoo the guard out this way, allowing them to talk amongst themselves about the next stage of their plan. 

"What is wrong with my delivery," complained the guard. 

Carter held up a hand. "You see, you're supposed to let a little time go between the rest of it and what's called the punch line; you know what a punch line' is, right?" 

Not letting the guard get a word in edgewise, Kinch explained. "That's the funny part - here, it's and 20 minutes if you don't.'" The Heroes smiled. They could tell Schultz's mind was completely off of LeBeau now; he wouldn't have to be trusted to ignore his absence after all. They knew it was best never to press their luck unless they had to. 

Hogan stepped forward. "Here, let's practice - Carter, ask me when dinner will be ready." "When will dinner be ready." 

"Dinner will be ready in 30 minutes if you help," came the warm voice, sounding like a caring parent. After a pregnant pause, which made it sound as if he was done talking, Hogan emphasized the second number and said "and 20 if you don't." The others laughed uproariously, the better to draw Schultz in.. 

Schultz smiled. "Hmmm, that does sound better. Let me see if I have it..." 

Hogan and the others ushered him out the door. "Practice it a little while, come back to us in a few hours." Schultz reluctantly agreed, and left without thinking about LeBeau. 

LeBeau bore an incredibly snow-white wig which fit snugly on his head. He also sported a shawl and about four sweaters and many fake wrinkles, the better to make him appear like the typical old peasant. He stooped over heavily when he walked, bearing a cane, slowing his gait immensely but also allowing him to be less noticeable to any Gestapo agents. What old lady didn't walk like that? 

Sporting a cane and glasses, he slowly ambled toward the hotel's courtyard. Several guards stood by chatting amicably; they did not seem to notice the bespectacled "old lady." However, as LeBeau, already shorter than most of the other POWs, inched forth to examine the generator, one of them spoke. "Is there something you require, Ma'am?" He pretended not to hear as he examined the item. Normally, Newkirk would have been selected for 

anything mechanical, but LeBeau could describe things well enough for the others. Besides, this was a first attempt. He flashed a few picture using his pen-sized camera, but the guards did not let him get close enough to examine the generator in intricate detail.. 

A German corporal walked up to him and spoke gently but firmly, a little louder than normal. "Ma'am, I cannot let you any closer, this item is top secret." 

LeBeau shook his head, using a voice that sounded quite ancient. He sighed. "You just don't have any respect for your elders, sonny." 

"I am sorry if I offended you," came the embarassed reply, "it is just..." 

"When I see wonderful examples of German ingenuity, it just makes me so happy." She turned feebly toward the guard. "Won't you let a nice old lady see the machine that can win the war?" 

"Well, it is just a generator..." came the reluctant reply. Should he have said that? What did it matter, what could this old lady do? Still, he could not let her examine this, it was against orders. "Where are your papers?" LeBeau handed him the fake ID papers. He thought for a moment. "Perhaps if I call my suuperior, Genreal Alburt Burkhalter. You can speak to him." He would have shooed any normal person away quickly. However, he also knew the elderly were to be treated with respect. Besides, this person might be too old to handle being dragged anywhere. 

"All riiiiight," came the tired comment. "Will it take long?" 

"Only a moment." 

LeBeau showed his lack of understanding of technical matters with his next comment. "Well, you tell him I might even be able to help if he can explain this to me; my late husband, he worked on a very primitive one of these, you know." The guard raised his eyebrows. 

"What was his name? I find that rather astounding." 

LeBeau didn't know what to say, so he stammered a little. "Well, he was a baron, or a count, or something..." 

"Not Count Volta," came another uniformed man, wanting to show off his memory of European iventors from high school. Volta had worked extensively with electrivity in his life. 

LeBeau jumped at the notion, eager to have a name he could use. Raising a hand gingerly and nodding, he shook his arm slightly, as one in the beginning stages of Parkinson's Disease, and stated "that's the one." One guard almost dropped his rifle, and several mouths flew open. The corporal ran to call Burkhalter, who arrived within minutes. 

"Herr General," commented the guard, "this is the lady I was talking about. From what she has said, she must be at least 150 years old!" 

LeBeau felt shock. Volta must have lived longer ago than he'd thought. At least I didn't say someone like Newton, he thought to himself. Playing the role he'd talked himself into, he smirked and cackled: "And I bet I don't look a day over 105, do I?" 

Burkhalter gasped. "Corporal, this is astounding. Are you certain about...did you examine her papers?" The notion seemed absurd, but something was sticking in the back ofhis mind. The fuhrer had complained lately about the need to convince other nations of the superiority of the Master Race. Perhaps more would join the Axis if such items could be found. The races won by Jesse Owens, and the defeat of Max Schmelling by Joe Louis, still gnawed at him years later. Perhaps this... 

LeBeau knew his papers didn't indicate that advanced an age. He explained. "Oh, you people would just fawn all over me, and I don't like all that attention. It's a woman's right to lie and knock a hundred years or so off her age." 

"But you deserve it, Ma'am," Burkhalter insisted. "To what do you owe your long life?" 

"To the fact that I haven't died yet," chided the Frenchman. He gave a silly grin, and the others laughed. 

"Where do you live," came the doting general. 

"Just in a little cabin in the woods, General..." LeBeau decided to try and butter up the startled man. It often worked for Hogan. "Let me see, it began with a B...General Bismarck?" 

The name made Burkhalter blush slightly. "Ma'am, I am quite flattered to be called that. However, General Bismarck died years ago. My name is Burkhalter." He bowed slightly. 

"Yes, well I knew it was a B'. Like I say, I don't want attention..." 

Burkhalter showed genuine excitement. He knew even if it wasn't true, this kind of discovery could be milked for propaganda purposes. And, it sounded to him as if it might be true. Given what he felt was the superiority of the German people, he determined there was a least a fair chance it was. "But you deserve it. You have accomplished something which is truly amazing." He tried a different tact, knowing that knowledge of such an advanced German would provide a wonderful propaganda tool. "My dear, you would do what you could to end the war, right?" He nodded and muttered something about the Franco-Prussian War not being this bad, then complained a little about a sore neck. "If we announce to the world that you are living after this many years, people may believe more quickly the superiority of the German people. You...are a German, correct?" The shock wearing off, he was now remembering to ask other questions which he might have asked at first, such as about to see her ID, and to perhaps get her a "correct" one. "And, we will need your real ID tags." 

"Yes, I am German; Herr Volta loved the German people." 

"Let me put you up at my place whlie we..." 

LeBeau knew he could never allow himself to be torn away from the Heroes; especially not at Burkhalter's! They couldn't get him out very well there. He offered this instead. "Wait, I do not want you to go to this trouble. Perhaps if there are VIP quarters near, like at a prison camp?" 

"You wish to go to a prison camp..." came the incredulous man. 

Searching for a rationale, the Frenchman offered this. "A couple relatives fought in the American Revoultion. I would love to meet an American." 

Burkhalter grinned, he knew how Colonel Hogan would hate it if he knew this marvel was being used as a propaganda tool. There was no way his nation could come up with, as the Americans put it, "a better mousetrap," nor could they discredit this very elderly lady's existence if it were proven. The more he thought about it, General Burkhalter decided that the propaganda effect outweighed the implausibility. 

He therefore decided that the quarters he used at Stalag 13 would be suitable. Put her up for a few days, get newspapers to cover the event, and make a little propaganda - that was his plan. Yes, that would show the superiority of German health, German medicine, German food, and many other things. Whether she was truly so ancient - well, unless they had real documents, they couldn't take the chance on saying it for certain. The aged mind of a centenarian often played tricks, and a 100-year-old woman could think she was older. 

Therefore, he escorted her to his car. LeBeau walked gingerly, ensuring he didn't overact the part; good thing Newkirk or Carter aren't doing this, reasoned the Frenchman. Especially Carter. LeBeau recalled that Carter's best impersonations were those of bombastic Nazis; including, on one occasion, Hitler himself. 

"Tell me, Ma'am, what would you like for dinner," Burkhalter inquired as he ordered the driver to take them to Stalag 13. 

"Well..." He paused. He and the "lady" - Greta Shofner was the phony name - could never be in the same place at the same time. He therefore didn't know if he should suggest a French meal or not. However, he couldn't stand German food, and he knew if he didn't ask for a French meal, that would be his fare. True, there were other Frenchmen in the camp, but they couldn't cook nearly as well. Besides, Burkhalter knew he - LeBeau - was the one to cook all of the best meals. This is a decision for Colonel Hogan, he deduced, figuring he'd had his share of good luck already. He pretended his eyes were heavy. "I am tired, let me think about it for a while." He feigned dozing off, and Burkhalter dropped the matter. 

Hogan paced lightly in the barracks. He knew LeBeau should have been back by now. Howver, the Frenchman was quite good at hiding, as well as being adept at dodging patrols. If he spotted some military along the road, he wouldn't take risks. Therefore, Hogan and hs men weren't overly concerned - yet. 

The colonel found himself hoping there would be no surprise inspections as Carter indicated that the genera's car had just pulled up. Klink acted excited as usual, whlie Schultz merely opened the door for the general as if he were a robot. Schultz didn't mind work like this. As long as he wasn't fighting, and the Heroes of Barracks 2 weren't pulling any of their "monkey business." 

General Burkhalter waved Schultz off as he looked at the "old lady" on the other side of the car. He gingerly opened the door himself, and helped the apparently sleepy, begrizzled old lady out of the car. "Klink," the general announced proudly, "you will not believe this." 

Always eager to agree with the general, Klink jumped right in. "You are right, Sir, this is incredible. I...am at a loss for words." Responding to the general's glare, he pointed to the woman and asked: "Who is that?" 

"My guess is, it is his mother," Schultz pondered aloud. He wanted to say perhaps his grandmother, but didn't want to insult the lady - or the general. 

Carter continued to watch out the window. "Guys..." he began, dumbstruck. "It looks like LeBeau! But why is the general smiling?" 

"LeBeau!?" Everyone went to the window as Hogan continued. "But how...he's still got his old lady's outfit on." 

"What gives," inquired Kinch. 

"I'm gonna find out; wait here," Hogan ordered, donning his cap and sauntering toward the car on the other side of the compound. 

As they were doing this, Burkhalter was making introductions. "Frau Greta Shofner, Kommandant Wilhelm Klink of Stalag 13, and Sergeant Hans Schultz, sergeant of the guard." Both bowed. 

"To what do I owe this honor," inquired Klink. He chose to turn off his charm, since the lady appeared old enough to be his mother. He treated it merely as a courtesy, rather than a chance to make it big with a single lady. "Have you heard of the perfect record of our humble little camp? There has never been a successful escape! Not one!" 

LeBeau couldn't resist digging at Klink a little. "Why, Sonny," he remarked, cackling, "that's wonderful, just like Ernst Zimmerman's stalag during the Napoleonic Wars. He is a fine man to emulate." The notion that someone else had achieved a perfect record unnerved Klink. Schultz appeared a little puzzled, though he didn't recognize LeBeau with all those wrinkles. 

Burkhalter grinned, glad to see Klink taken down a notch. I'm beginning to love this more and more, he considered. With a hint of astonishment, he explained that "Frau Shofner is well over 150 years old! She will make excellent publicity for the German race." 

Klink smiled casually for several seconds while the notion settled in his mind. "General... she is...how can that be?" 

"What matters is that it is true." Burkhalter decided not to explain to Klink his reasoning, that that didn't matter when it came to propaganda. As long as she was willing to claim it was true, that was enough. It was easier if simpletons such as this believed it. 

LeBeau felt more comfortable seeing Hogan walking toward them. "I was hoping to meet an American." 

Klink grinned. His commanding officer had told him this lady's age, so it must be true. He didn't know how. He only knew that he could rub Hogan's nose in it. "And that you shall. Schultz, get me Colonel...Ah, Hogan," came the kommandant with overly excessive glee. 

"General, what brings you here," came the amiable American. "Did your mother here takl you into surrendering?" 

Klink would not allow Burkhalter to get a word in edgewise. "Colonel Hogan, General Burkhalter has made the greatest discovery for the Third Reich, one which will prove German superiority. And he has brought it here to this camp." With an almost ridiculous looking toothy grin, Klink clapped his hands and asked Hogan to guess what it was. 

"Well, the first thing I think of is a solution to hangovers; I had an awful one after your last party," remarked Hogan. 

Burkhalter allowed himself to grin slightly. "Hogan, your sense of humor is bizarre, as usual." 

"Oh, come now, General, don't you think that would make the world a better place?" 

Burkhalter sighed and turned to LeBeau. "We discovered this woman in Hammelburg. She claims to be over 150 year old!" 

Hogan seemed unimpressed, though inside he wondered what had gotten into LeBeau. Had Carter been dressed this way, yes, but LeBeau? "Personally, booze that didn't produce a hangover would impress me a lot more." 

The general ignored the ridiculously droll comment. Although, he said to himself, Hogan's humor is more palatable Klink's vanity. "When we introduce this woman to the world, we will have clear and convincing proof that the German race is superior to all others. Who knows how many more people are living around Germany at such an advanced age." 

"Yeah, right." Hogan shook his head in disbelief. "Now I'm sure this is your mother. A hundred fifty years old my foot. You really think anyone would believe that?" 

"Why not? It is common knowledge that German medicine, German food, everything German is better." The comment about the food almost made LeBeau gag. He fumed as the general continued. "How else could this woman have survived so long, where no other nation has claimed someone who has done so?" 

LeBeau couldn't help but comment. "What makes you think I don't like French food, Sonny," came the insulted, cracking voice. 

Schultz, at this point, suggested that "I could get one of our French prisoners..." He hesitated, realizing that this lady looked more like LeBeau the more he looked at her. 

The hesitation reminded LeBeau why he'd not wanted to commit himself to seeking such cuisine. He instantly turned to Hogan in that interval. "Where are you from...what was your name?" 

Hogan smiled. He was going to suggest that he interrogate this "woman" to see "if she was real." Maybe LeBeau has other ideas, he pondered. "Robert Hogan, senior P.O.W. officer." 

"Are you an American," came the somewhat tired voice. He confirmed this. "I had a couple brothers who served as Hessian soldiers in your War for Independence. I have always wanted to meet an Anmeican and talk about history." He turned to Burkhalter and Klink. "How about letting us talk in his barracks." 

That was too much to ask, Hogan considered. Burkhalter confirmed this. "Why would a lady such as yourself want to sit in a barracks? Schultz." He saluted. "Take this woman to the V.I.P. quarters. Let her rest for a while, we shall have dinner with Colonel Hogan tonight." 

"Really, I had my nap," LeBeau noted, referring to his feigned sleep in Burkhalter's car. "I want to talk with him now." 

"Besides," Hogan blurted, "I don't think she's really that old. If you really want to convince me..." He left the thought hanging on purpose. 

"By all means," came the general. "Klink, let me use your office phone." The two German officers went into Klink's office, and Hogan and LeBeau went into the VIP quarters, with Schultz guarding outside. 

Once inside, Hogan shot LeBeau a curious look. "Sorry, mon Colonel," explained the Frenchman, "they caught me looking at the item a little too closely. I didn't think it would be prudent to just walk away, so I said a late husband developed a primitive one, and just said something generic about it being a baron or count. One of the soldiers mentioned Volta, and I just agreed." 

Hogan nodded, speaking a little sarcastically. "That's a great plan, except Volta's most famous work came around 1800." 

"Sorry, mon colonel, I guess I was too busy dreaming of spending time with all the girls in my class." 

He grinned. "It's okay, LeBeau, you did the smart thing, you managed to get back here." 

"Oui. The general even wanted to let me stay in his own house! I knew I could never allow that, so I made up a story about wanting to meet an American." 

Hogan interpreted that to refer to the story about brothers serving in the American Revolution. LeBeau confirmed that this was his idea. "Quite clever; at least you didn't sleep through that part." 

"Well, I just remember it as something where French and German animosity goes back a long way." Hogan nodded. "I really can't believe old Burkhalter fell for that part about me being so old. The enlisted men yes, and Klink I could maybe see..." 

Hogan folded his arms and meandered around the main room. "I don't think he does believe it." 

"Really? Then why the special treatment?" 

He turned toward the Frenchman. "Look, as long as you're willing to claim you're that old, it's a great publicity stunt. It'll inspire the German people, and might win a few believers outside Germany. All they need to do is forge a few documents and spread them around." Hogan leaned against a table. "The Germans know Allied newspapers wouldn't print normal German propaganda. But, reporters wouldn't be able to resist a story about a 180-year-old person. That's the news of the year if they have proof, maybe of the decade. Then they'll write first and ask questions later, afraid someone else will get the scoop if they don't." 

"I never knew journalism was that competitive." 

"It can get pretty bad, if it's the right story." LeBeau nodded, suddenly recalling the reporter who couldn't wait to tell people about the "secret operation in a prison camp." 

The Frenchman knew Hogan would never want to give the Germans propaganda points. "So, you want me to tell them it's all a mistake; maybe lapse into a coma or something?" 

Hogan shook his head. "Nah, those Krauts would take you to a hospital, do anything to revive you." He stopped to thank, rubbing his chin. "Hmmm. Actually, that might help." 

LeBeau felt excited. "I knew you would think of something. What should I do? Have a heart attack or a stroke?" 

"No, I want you to keep playing a 180-year-old woman," he remarked. 

"Huh?" 

"Look, if we provide the evidence, we can make it so it'll be tough to refute." LeBeau nodded. "Then we hold the cards; and we can be the ones to refute it." 

"What about the generator?" 

Hogan explained. "If the Krauts fawn over you like this now, and we convince them you're the real McCoy, they'll be giong crazy. We use you to get one of us - a grandson, say." 

"Or great-grandson, or however many greats..." He trailed off, trying to imagine how far back that would go. 

"As long as it's a relation," noted the master spy, "it doesn't matter. Of course, it'll have to be a member of the military, maybe the Gestapo." 

"But of course." Hogan began to leave, when LeBeau stopped him. "One more thing - the general asked if I wanted a really well-cooked meal." He shrugged, holding out his hands. "I knew I couldn't cook for myself, when I'm supposed to be out dining with you. And yet, I could never take German food." 

"That WOULD be impossible, wouldn't it," came the humorous comment. 

LeBeau admitted "I didn't know what to do, so I thought I'd better ask you." 

The American noted that "an elderly lady wouldn't be able to take too many spicy foods. If you just ask for something simple - noodles with a really light sauce, let's say - one of the other Frenchmen would be able to do it." He comforted him with a grin. "It'll still be better than normal prisoner rations." 

LeBeau sniffed. "Dog food would be better than what the prisoners get sometimes." 

"Yeah, at least the nobility used to insist they eat cake. At least, that's what your friend Marie Antoinette said." The two snickered. LeBeau wondered if he would ever hear the end of the old people jokes the others might have in store, if Hogan couldn't resist that one. Hogan left, as Klink walked up to him. 

"Well, what do you think," came the excited response. 

Hogan considered his next reply. Hesitating, he replied simply. "She's old. She's also quite tired. I'll be anxious to have dinner with you tonight and talk more with her." 

Klink clapped his hands with glee as Burkhalter walked up behind them. "Excellent...I'll make sure LeBeau cooks the best meal..." 

Hogan turned the tables as he approached Burkhalter. "Can you believe him? A meal that rich would kill a woman her age." Burkhalter, unsure of whom to agree with, finally decided Hogan was right. A different chef would be used. 

"What," came Newkirk in the barracks. Hogan was filling them in on the story. "They think he's really an old lady?" 

"Actually, Newkirk, I think ancient is a better word." He turned to Kinch. "I need some ID tags; one will be just like the Greta Shofner one...you still have the negatives, right, Carter," he asked the American in the green flyer's outfit. 

"It'll only take me a minute to find them...wherever I put them," came the sudden hesitation. 

"Kinch, help him look. We need the tag to read that Ms. Shofner was born in 1762." The others whistled. 

"Colonel...are people really going to believe that," inquired the mustached man. 

Baker remarked that "if Hitler told them, they'd believe she was a thousand and eighty years old." The others nodded somewhat grimly. 

"This is our chance to sort of play a trick on the Nazis, too, and rub their noses in their master race' claims, as well as getting that generator," he spoke. Turning to Carter and Newkirk, he explained how they would do that. "Newkirk, you're going to be a Gestapo agent; you have her real papers, and you've just come in from a city in the East to check on her; let's say Berlin. Carter, you'll be his assistant." 

"I'm gonna be related to Louis," came the startled Englishman. "An' he's my GRANDmother?" He guffawed. 

"With a few great's thrown in, I'm sure," noted Kinch. 

"I can just see it," Carter commented, "instead of a birthday, you could invite everyone to her Bicentennial." The group laughed. 

The chorus of giggles increased as Newkirk spoke. "Hey, maybe we can make her out to be a distant relative of the fuhrer; maybe she' can talk im into stoppin' this nonsense war." 

Hogan held up his hands. "All right, calm down, guys. They want to use this for propaganda, so they'll be overdoing it enough as it is, we don't need you adding to it." 

"Right, just as soon as we find a 200-year-old man to go steady with im," cracked Newkirk. 

"Say, are they are Atilla the Hun really died," Kinch wondered, caught up in the wisecracking. 

"Yeah, Kinch, make my name Atilla Shofner," Newkirk teased. 

"All right, guys, can we get serious for a minute. Now, there's a generator here, too," Hogan reminded them, "and you need to be snapping pictures. And getting diagrams." He took the tiny camera, which LeBeau had been using, and instructed Carter to develop the film for it and put new film in. "Chances are, Burkhalter called some of the local bigwigs, so we'll need to make this look real enough to fool them." A chorus of "right, sir" followed, as he outlined several other items. "Any questions," he concluded. 

Carter raised his hand. "Just one thought. I know we don't want them to, but if the Germans do convince the Allies Louis' for real, well, there's this one teacher I had in high school, and we all swore she was about a hundred fifty. You might want to see if she's still living." The others groaned and walked away. 

Chapter Two 

LeBeau managed not to gag as he methodically consumed the finely cut noodles and sauce - with a smal amount of beef - prepared for him by sergeant Pierre Reboulet, a Frenchman captured around the same time LeBeau had been. The meal was, in his opinion, adequate. He supposed gagging wouldn't be an altogether unusual act for the 180-year-old woman he pretended. However, such a lady, were she to exist, might also consider it too impolite. 

In the kitchen, Schutz couldn't help but comment, in the kitchen, that it seemed strange "without the cockroach here." 

"A meal this level's beneath him," Kinch commented, wearing a waiter's uniform. He added a little tidbit to make the absence of the others a little more reasonable. "Carter and Newkirk are good friends; they wouldn't come if he couldn't." 

"Still, to miss such a chance to meet a person so old..." He tasted some of the dinner and paused to think. 

"Not like home, huh?" The voice came from Reboulet, who hadn't heard the jokes about Mrs. Schultz's cooking. 

"Actually, it is better than my wife's." Reboulet burst with pride for about two seconds, until Schultz said "it tastes almost as good as my thirteen-year-old son's." Kinch stifled a laugh, sensing that Reboulet felt insulted. "Was that good timing," the guard inquired, thinking of how Hogan had instructed him in joke telling. 

"Perfect, Schultz. Why don't you go offer them some more wine." As Schultz left, Kinch walked out to take a flower from a corner vase. He then tried to soothe Reboulet's nerves while signalling Baker to run to the barracks and alert Carter and Newkirk. Kinch picking the flower out of the vase was the signal for LeBeau to mention that a descendant was in the Gestapo. 

As Schultz poured those who wanted it - Hogan, Klink and Burkhalter - wine, the Frenchman noted, in a shaky voice, that "one of my great, great...oh, dear, how many is he? Anyway, he was coming to the area." 

"Really? How nice," came Burkhalter's amicable comment. 

"He'll probably expose her as a phony," Hogan mumbled as he took a sip of wine. LeBeau shot him a harsh look. 

Klink glared at Hogan. "Hogan, when will you stop doubting German superiority?" 

"I told you, the day you come up with a way to do away with hangovers." LeBeau shook his head as Schultz offered him wine. 

"Ha, ha. Colonel Hogan has a marvelous sense of humor, doesn't he, Frau Shofner." 

The Frenchman smiled at Klink. "Yes, I do wish some of my relatives were more like him." He paused to think. "Let me see, what does he work in...black outfit, he likes to wade through other peoples' garbage..." 

"Must be the Gestapo," cosnidered Hogan as Schultz stood at attention at the table. 

LeBeau raised a shaking finger. "Yes, that is it, the Gestapo. He needs your sense of humor." 

"The Gestapo could use a lot of things. Humor, manners..." Hogan trailed off. Klink and Burkhalter found themselves agreeing with Hogan. 

"A lady like you, madame, should be able to show them," considered Schultz aloud. 

"Oh, who would listen to me..." he began as Newkirk and Carter, each in Gestapo outfits, barged into the room. LeBeau showed instant recognition. "Ludwig, what brings you here? Who is your friend?" 

Carter bowed. "Heydrich Lohmiller. It is a great pleasure to meet my friend Ludwig's Grandmamamamama..." Newkirk slapped him on the back as Hogan tried with his eyes to warn Carter not to overdo this. 

"Heydrich likes to overdo things," came Newkirk's simple explanation. "I was in the area from Berlin, and heard you were the guest of General Burkhalter. I felt you would like your true identity papers." They were almost identical to the others, except the date of birth was in 1762, not 1862. Klink gasped slightly as he read them. Burkhalter and Schultz each scanned the papers with intense interest. 

"Let me see." Hogan gave the papers a cursory glance, then sat back down. "Ah, so what." 

Klink held out his hands. "So what? This woman is older than your country!" 

Burkhalter studied LeBeau further. Yes, the picture matched. The papers looked quite authentic. LeBeau sensed from the look that Hogan had been right. Klink and Schultz had believed quickly. The general, while disbelieving at first - yet willing to use it - was beginning to be a believer. As the Frenchman endeavored to act extra frail all of a sudden, the better to fool the Germans, Burkhalter's mouth hung open. He was at a loss for words. Could this actually be true? The possibilities engulfed his mind. 

Part of Hogan's plan was to doubt for as long as possible, so he could be there when LeBeau spoke of Volta and other things at the site of the prototype generator. "What helped me more than any papers would was speaking with her this afternoon about history." 

"Then by all means, ask away," insisted the kommandant. 

He gestured toward Ludwig. The colonel looked at LeBeau and smiled sweetly. "All right, Ma'am, let's test your memory. Who is this gentleman named after?" 

"My great-great-great grandson, Ludwig? He was named after Ludwig von Beethoven." Klink and Burkhalter gave "I told you so" gestures as LeBeau's frail voice continued. "I still recall attending the concerts in his later years. He was totally deaf. That made him so sad. He had to have people turn him around so he could face the audience and see them clapping, or he wouldn't know if they liked him." 

Schultz, sniffling a little at the thought, whimpered. "What a beautiful thing to do. So sad, to lose your hearing like that." 

"Aw Schultz, quit your blubbering and get back in the kitchen," Klink insisted. The fat guard did so. "Now, how is that for memory? Convinced now, Hogan?" 

Robert Hogan appeared to mull it over. "Sounds interesting. But what I want to know is, how well does she remember what she had for lunch today." 

LeBeau turned and wagged a finger timidly at the colonel. "I'll have you know, sonny, I had...well, I had food for lunch." Flashing a wry grin at the others, LeBeau remarked "it was something with potatoes in it." What German foods don't have potatoes in them, the Frenchman wondered. 

"That is good enough for me," came the monocled kommandant. 

Newkirk interrupted, still flabbergasted that his comrade now sat at a table with Burkhalter and Klink posing as a 180-year-old woman. What is this war coming to, he wondered. "Gammy, I heard you were inspecting the new generator the Nazis have produced." 

"Yes, but old Bismarck here wouldn't let me near it." Hogan had loved this idea of LeBeau's, and told him to use it a number of times. 

Burkhalter grinned heavily. "It is top secret, as I am sure the Gestapo knows. We had the area blocked off, and only top personnel were allowed in by the guards." Some of whom, LeBeau noted, are just like some of those at Stalag 13. They like to sleep on duty, and they can be bribed with candy bars. Especially candy bars from sweet little old ladies. 

"I can certainly vouch for her, General," declared Newkirk. 

"I'm sure you can. Obviously, there is no reason to show it to her, though..." The general trailed off. 

Now, Hogan felt, was the time to see if he could use reverse psychology on the general. It very rarely worked, but sometimes he could do it. If not...well, a few more well-placed "Bismarcks" might do it. "Oh, of course not, why add to your propaganda victory by saying that she's the mother of German invention; well, okay, grandmother." I thought necessity was the mother of invention, thought Carter, though he didn't say it. 

"Hmmm, he has a point, General," Newkirk noted simply. "The Party would love to use that when they tell the world about her." 

Hogan put down his fork. "I mean, if her husband really DID invent the first primitive electrical generators, since behind every great man there stands a great woman...but of course, he probably didn't, or you'd jump at the chance." He could sense Burkhalter getting a little miffed. 

"What makes you think he didn't," inquired Burkhalter. "Of course, he did!" 

Hogan laughed, pretending to ignore the German. "I mean, really, if your superiors in Berlin even suspected something like this was real, they'd let her keep copies of the diagrams. I'm sure she's a phony." 

"Pictures with it - that is an excellent idea," Newkirk exclaimed. "Come on, General, do it for her. I'm sure you would want the same for your own grandmother if she were 180 years old." 

The general sighed. Hogan knew he would be a tough sell, but his exterior was starting to crack - a little, anyway. "Well...it really isn't proper to let her have any kind of secret diagrams. Shouldn't the Gestapo have them in their office, anyway?" 

"Some fool now at the Russian front used them to stoke the fire in his stove," Carter claimed. 

Newkirk sniffed somewhat haughtily and sounded cocky. "Besides, who can she give them to. You can see she is barely able to move at times. We are a loyal German family!" 

LeBeau shook a little. "That is right," he considered aloud, "I have always supported the wonderful kingdoms of Saxony, Hanover...oh, there are so many kingdoms which have come together." 

Burkhalter grinned, putting an arm on the Frenchman's shoulder. "Right, and someday all the world will be united under the German banner." Right, and pigs will fly, LeBeau wanted to say. 

"General," Hogan chided, "are you flirting with her?" He turned to Klink. "Say, here's a lovely widow, why don't you ask her out." 

"Well...I..." Klink was at a loss for words. How would he say "no" to the lady? "I am just...a little unsure about May-December romances" stumbled out of his mouth. To say nothing of 18th century-20th century ones, he thought to himself. Hogan wants me to date her? 

Hogan sighed. "Yeah, at your ages 130 years does mean a BIG difference in maturity level. Maybe it will be better to wait a couple years." He applauded himself on saying that with a straight face. 

Newkirk wished some reference could be made to Burkhalter's sister. LeBeau did seem a little more attractive. However, now was not the time to insult him, Hogan had reminded them before the dinner. Instead, Newkirk smiled amicably and stood at attention. "I am sure you are quite anxious to finish dinner so the lady can get back to her quarters. Shall we say tomorrow at one, after her noontime nap, she can be shown the generator?" 

Burkhalter mulled over the possibility. Several high-ranking members of Goebbels' staff were due to arrive there at two, a fact which unbeknownst to him Hogan had gleaned from Schultz. He didn't wish the lady to be too tired, but she had been walking earlier that day. Were she to ride, that would help immensely. Yes, perhaps a ride there and back would be all right. He could even call the men and ask them to come to Hammelburg at one, thus relieving the lady of some stress. Yes, that would be good. The large number of media wouldn't descend on them for a little while yet. He could insist that they stay away for this initial propaganda opportunity. 

"Very well," Burkhalter finally agreed. "Tomorrow at one it shall be. We shall simply invite the media to come later." 

"Well, that's just swell," came Hogan's sarcastic remark. "I'm sure she's phony now, you're trying to keep her away from the prisoners." 

"Nonsense, Hogan, why don't you come, too. The Gestapo will be there to keep an eye on you," came the warning tone. 

Klink looked baffled. "You want to invite a prisoner, Herr General?" 

"Why not, Klink? Hogan is no dummy. He knows to be very suspicious of enemy propaganda. Once we convince him, we will know how far we need to go to convince the masses in Allied lands. And it shouldn't be that hard with others, most of his countrymen should be very willing to believe something like this." Talk about faint praise, Hogan said to himself. 

"I will look forward to it," came the elderly voice from LeBeau's mouth. What he really looked forward to, of course, was getting out of the ridiculous makeup and outfit he had on. Next time I'll let Newkirk be the old lady, he said to himself. 

LeBeau appeared with the others for roll call the next morning. As Greta, he'd left strict orders not to be disturbed before mid-morning. He would enter the tunnel via their headquarters, Barracks 2, then dress in his outfit and climb up to Klink's quarters, entering the VIP quarters from there. He was glad he was an old lady. If caught, he would simply say he was looking through Klink's medicine cabinet. 

The rest of the morning passed without incident as LeBeau went over the plans. Carter and Newkirk would surreptitously photograph the generator. When guards came out to study the "old lady," they would sneak in and photograph the diagrams. The Frenchman would distract the guards with a litany of made-up information romanticising past monarchs. If need be, he would make up monarchs of Saxony, Brandenburg, Bavaria, and other kingdoms in existence before the Confederation of 1871. He chuckled. That would have been when you were 109, Louis, he told himself. Boy, you never expected this when you joined Hogan's team. 

The Frenchman consumed a small meal, then stepped gingerly into Burkhalter's car. To him, it seemed quite unusual to have so much attention. Usually, the Heroes did their work much more under cover. He'd long grown to accept the unorthodox assignments as routine, however. "Now, listen, Sonny," he cacled to Burkhalter, "don't you let too many of those newspaper men bother me." 

"I won't, Ma'am. There will just be a few people." He wondered how he would approach the meeting with people from Goebbels' staff. The Propaganda Ministry would doubtlessly with to speak at length with her. "I am sure dear Ludwig will clear anyone before they can have access to you." 

"That is good." Klink and Hogan got into Klink's staff car, with Schultz driving. Burkhalter and the "lady" would take the general's car, along with a reporter from Berlin, while Newkirk and Carter followed in their own car, one from Klink's motorpool. 

As the autos arrived at the hotel courtyard where they had been testing the generator, troops stood at attention out of courtesy to LeBeau. "Oh, come now," he uttered in response. "It's not like King Frederick is here or anything." 

"I imagine you know a lot of history, Ma'am," spoke Burkhalter, becoming more impressed each moment. Hogan and Schultz stood off to the side, with Carter and Newkirk - dressed as Gestapo - blocking the view of the generator. They took turns turning around and photographing it while the other blocked the guards' view of them. 

"Yes, well, my brothers were really fond of it; one was a Hessian and later served in the fight against Napoleon.. He had to come home early, though, he had the gout. That's really painful, you know; I have this one friend, she used to soak her feet in pickle juince. Which worked till her varicose veins acted up; that really makes your feet swell sometimes, and she couldn't walk too well. Her son's nephew - well, nephew-in-law, he was related by blood, because he married the daughter of a baron, he - the nephew - had to build a special carriage..." The Frenchman rambled on for several minutes about bizarre home remedies, as Klink grew bored and Burkhalter grew a little fidgety. Schultz thought about food to bide his time. 

When the general could finally get a word in edgewise, he spoke to LeBeau. "Let us get our picture with the generator now." Carter and Newkirk had signalled that they were done taking pictures. They would soon sneak in to snap pictures of the diagrams. As the general and LeBeau walked up to the prototype generator, he asked her to "tell us a little about Count Volta." 

LeBeau recited a little explanation he'd made. He began to talk about how he, as a young lady, had inspired some of Volta's earliest work - just what the Germans wanted to hear - then digressed into stories about long-dead people, naughty affairs - including the Count's with her - and other unimportant things. 

Hogan turned to Klink, expressing a little shock. "Kommandant, I'm starting to believe in this lady." The voice was a signal to cut to the elementary electrical knowledge Newkirk and Kinch had given LeBeau. Once he discussed this, he would invite the guards stationed inside out for a history lesson about a couple Prussian kings, then they would leave. 

Burkhalter silently thanked Hogan for interrupting a story about some unsuccessful fling with a Greek woman by a son fighting for Greek independence in the 1820s. LeBeau began his fundamental explanation of electrical charges and how he had given Volta the inspiration to build the first capacitor in 1800. 

Suddenly, two men with suits arrived. They informed Schultz sleepily standing guard at the courtyard entrance, that they were from Goebbes' headquarters. Hogan overheard and quickly proclaimed "that does it, I'm ready to believe it; this lady is for real!" 

"I knew it, Hogan," Klink remarked excitedly, "I knew you would come around." 

The general smiled, too. "Excellent, that is the news I have been waiting to hear." 

Hogan interrupted again, holding up a hand and hoping that would silence Schultz. It did. "First, I want to hear more about history. You know, I'm sure there are some pretty interesting kings who came before the Kaiser." He winked in a way noticeable only to LeBeau. The signal meant that he was to ramble as much and as long as possible. 

The Frenchman told Burkhalter to "invite those other guards out, Bismarck, so they won't miss this; what can happen with my dear Ludwig here?" Bukrhalter blushed and did so. 

"Excuse me," came one of Goebbels' men, stepping forward. 

Hogan wouldn't let him talk. Lucky this country still pays some honor to old ladies, he thought to himself. "Tell that story you were telling me yesterday afternoon, about the King of Bavaria and the dancing girls in his wine cellar." 

LeBeau held up a shaking hand and began as the guards came out. "Oh, yes, well, you know they used to keep lions in the wine cellars in the Middle Ages to keep people from stealing their great Bavarian wines. Well, this one King, Wilhelm, in the late 1700s would use them to keep people out of his exotic parties with all these dancing girls. I was one of them. The girls, that is, not the lions." Newkirk and Carter snuck into the hotel to quickly begin taking pictures and stealing what diagrams they could. 

Minutes later, LeBeau noticed Newkirk and Carter emerging as he finished his ramble. "...And that's when the Brothers Grimm came to me and I told them about the story passed down in our family for years, and it became the fairy tale you know as Cinderella.'" He suddenly began to look quite tired and feeble, as if he'd exhausted all his energy. "Oh, you just tire an old lady out with all you want to hear about," murmured the Frenchman. Schultz applauded. 

Newkirk wakled up to Hogan and glowered, while whispering "we got everything, Colonel." Hogan gave a short nod. 

Burkhalter smiled. "That was quite impressive. Wasn't it, Hogan?" 

Hogan, who'd been standing with arms folded, flung them to his sides. "I don't know what else to say, General, you've convinced me. I'm in the presence of a great wonder." 

The propaganda men stepped forward, duly impressed. LeBeau had managed to glorify just about every Kaiser and many German kings with his stories. "That was wonderful, Ma'am. We are sorry we're early, but we'd hoped to pick you up early and speak on the way." 

"On the way where," came the curious kommandant. 

"Der fuhrer himself is fascinated with this oppotunity. He has cleared his calendar for this evening and tomorrow, and wishes to dine with this marvel and get to know her himself," explained the man. 

Hogan wished he could sneak a gun to LeBeau and let him have a stab at Hitler, but knew it would be too risky. This was still a civilian and she would be very closely watched. Besides, there were too many of Hitler's cronies who would continue the fight. Hence, the momentary plot was allowed to wither. Instead, he whispered to Newkirk "she's gonna keel over and die fast, be ready to rush him to the car and back to camp." 

"Right, Sir." 

To the propaganda men, the American colonel remarked: "All I can say is, with all she's seen of other leaders, I'm sure she has some valuable opinions on Hitler." His emphasis on "opinions" told LeBeau what to do. 

Tiredly, LeBeau cackled: "You bet I do, Sonny." Burkhalter, Klink, and Goebbels' men beamed proudly, certain the lady would speak glowingly of the fuhrer. The general and the kommandant already grinned broadly at the thought the fuhrer would connect them with this "discovery." Until, that is, LeBeau opened his mouth further. 

Burkhalter's excited countenance turned to shock and dismay as LeBeau, sounding like an ancient, elderly schoolmarm lecturing a naughty student, berated the man. "Why, I've known pigs who have a better sense of honor that that dimwitted man leading Germany now. All he's brought is shame and disgrace. Master race' my foot, if we were so masterful he wouldn't have to say all those nasty things about other people!" 

"Ma'am..." spouted Burkhalter as his mouth flung open. 

"He's so weak he can't stand up to the fact he'll never be anything unless he takes everyone else down ten notches," LeBeau continued to rant, clutching his chest slightly. "You boys better never listen to that monster, or he'll lead you all down to the pits of Hell..." 

"I have heard enough," proclaimed one of the propaganda people as the two left in a huff. 

Klink, hastily following them to their car, swiftly yelled as they got in and drove off "wait a minute, I run a model prison camp, perhaps Herr Goebbels would like to speak to me; there has never been a successful escape from Stalag 13, not one! A record no other prison camp can come close to..." He threw up his arms as the car sped away. 

Meanwhile, LeBeau began to breathe heavily in the midst of his rants. His mimicked a person having a heart attack. "I haven't lived 180 years without learning a thing or two, and let me tell you, Napoleon was far better, at least he had some honor! Hitler wouldn't know honor if it came up and bit him. All those other kings...all the rats in their castles...were better than that man. Don't let him deceive you!" He collapsed to his knees, then fell to the ground, closing his eyes. 

Newkirk and Carter rushed over. "Oh, no, massive coronary," spouted Carter, checking about where he thought her heart was. 

"Let's get her to a hospital, we'll call you at Stalag 13, General," exclaimed Newkirk as they quickly carried her to their car, to be driven back to camp. Hogan grinned solemnly, holding his hat over his heart. 

Kommandant Klink stomped back to the courtyard. "I can't believe they didn't want to hear about my perfect record." 

The general glared at him. "Klink, you buffoon," he exclaimed. Exhaling a little nervously, he pondered out loud "what am I going to tell them in Berlin? Especially the fuhrer." 

Hogan turned to Burkhalter and grinned sadly. "Yeah, she sure told you off. Too bad she couldn't have gotten to see him. Maybe she could have talked him into stopping this war." 

"Hogan, I'm surprised at you, even an American should have some respect," shouted Klink. 

Hogan grinned wryly. "Oh, I do. You Germans should learn to value the opinions of 180 year old ladies a little more." He walked toward Klink's car, leaving Klink and Burkhalter fuming. 

Afterword 

General Burkhalter stomped glumly into Klink's office several days later. Hogan, intending to hear the dialogue, followed closely. "Klink," explained the general, "I have bad news." 

Klink noticed Schultz and Hogan following the general in. "Hogan, close the door." Hogan did so while he and Schultz remained in the room. Klink shook a fist but said nothing. 

"Isn't that what he said to do," Hogan asked Schultz, who nodded. Klink shook a fist at both of them. 

"You may as well let Hogan stay. He fell for it in the end, too," remarked the general. Now we can't even use it as faked propaganda. At least she died before getting to see the fuhrer, so we didn't have to tell him what she felt, he thought to himself. 

"Fell for what," Hogan wanted to know. 

Burkhalter pulled out several slips of paper and showed them to the others. "I received word from the Department of Health in Hammelburg yesterday. It seems this whole thing came about because of some confusion in names." A birth certificate for a Greta Shofner showed that she was born February 19, 1862, and died a couple days ago. A second group of documents showed that Greta Shofner had been born April 12, 1762, and died February 19, 1862. After Klink studied them for a minute, the general said "don't you see?" 

Hogan asked "see what?" He wanted to be sure the general reported this first. It would carry more weight in the official reports. 

Schultz, studying the photos for a moment, shook his head. "What a shame, she died a couple months shy of her 100th birthday." 

"Klink, this later Greta Shofner - the one who just died - she was the same woman we ate with." Burkhalter pulled out other documents. "Her grandson - the one we met - was Ludwig Shofner. So was her father, though; the first Greta's grandson." He paused. "They found the older Greta's diaries in with this Greta's things; she had been confusing her memories from what she'd read and heard from her father." 

"What are you saying, General," Hogan wondered, feigning worry. "Don't tell me I fell for one of your tricks! You wanted to fool me into thinking I was eating with a 180 year old woman!" 

The general hadn't thought of it as a trick, but it was more palatable than recalling he almost introduced the fuhrer to a fraud - and one who hated his guts, at that. An ordinary old woman, he could have stomached making out to be that old. Now, there was no chance. The proof was too conclusive she'd only been 80. "Yes, you could look at it that way. Confusion because they lived in the same house, and the first Greta died the same time the second was born. It seemed to the tax people that it was the same Greta. And, also, to you." He looked at Klink, who seemed ready to begin gloating, and decided he'd better leave. Klink's gloating spells sometimes made him feel 180, he got so tired of them. 

As Schultz escorted Burkhalter to his staff car, Newkirk entered the office dressed as an attorney. He bore a monocle, a mustache, and a very fancy suit. "Wilhelm Klink," he inquired, pulling out a piece of paper. "I have a car here owned by a Greta Shofner, now deceased. I am to offer it for sale to you first." He quoted a price. It was actually one of Klink's own cars; it had just been in the garage so long - because Hogan and his men had used it so often - he'd forgotten about it. This would be a good way for Hogan's men to get some extra real money. 

The amount quoted seemed reasonable, so Klink gave the man cash. After Newkirk left, the kommandant said "ha, this will be better than those wrecks your men have been working on." 

"Maybe. At least she left you something." Klink nodded. "Was that a good price? I don't know what the market's like." 

"In wartime, with the way my cars keep disappearing, of course it was. Even though it depleted the reserves I buy wine with," lamented the German colonel. 

"Well, I hope you got a good deal, Sir," came Hogan, saluting as he left Klink's office. He met Schultz outside. 

"Who was that man in the suit who just left," the guard wanted to know. 

"An attorney. Klink just bought a car that belonged to a little old lady from Hammelburg," explained the American. 

"Really? How long had she had it." 

Hogan couldn't resist this as a way to explain the breakdowns that would soon hit this auto. "Over twenty years, but she only drove it once a week to church." After a pregnant pause, he added "in Berlin." Both men laughed heartily. 


End file.
